The Sound of rushing Water
by DanielCrayon
Summary: When Will is kidnapped, Hannibal will stop at nothing to get him back. Rated for violence and torture.


**Hey All,  
****This is fist Hannibal Fic so be kind. I'll probably take a load of time to update between chapters, I cant tie myself to any sort of writing schedule. so I wont promise a chapter a eek sort of deal. This story will also be available of AO3, so yeah, that's a thing. Anyhow, enjoy reading, I know i did writing.**

**...  
**

Chafing ropes burned the delicate insides of his wrists and blisters were starting to form around his ankles. Will Graham was unsure how long he had been awake, and even more unsure as to how long he had been stuck in trunk of this creep's car, bound and gagged.

He'd helped with cases of finding kidnapped victims before. They were always particularly stressful. The ticking of the clock potentially ticking to the death of an innocent. And when they did find the person, they were usually traumatized, it was too much for him to deal with their emotional turmoil. He never liked to meet them after they're rescued. Overall he hated working those cases, even when successful he felt like a failure, that person's life would never be the same and there was nothing he could do. He wondered if this little experience would have the same affect on him.

Will was calmer than one would think he would be in his situation. _It might be shock_, his subconscious supplied.

A throbbing headache pounded in his skull, demanding attention and putting him in a sort of distanced mindset, and while he grasped the situation, he was emotionally separated. He felt as if he was floating slowly downriver, the sky overhead clear, with few cloud forming random shapes. The dark water lapping his skin and sprinkling his face. The rays of the sun never quite shining in his direction, never hitting his eyes. The inevitable falls ever nearing. He felt, strangely at peace, the kind of peace you know is only a facade but enjoy nonetheless.

Offhandedly he wondered if his captor would be so kind as to give him some aspirin when they finally stop. As far as he could tell though, the guy planned on driving until their destination was reached, wherever that happened to be. Another throb within his skull stopped the train of thought, a bump in the road solidified his discomfort, and with his beautiful facade fading away, slowly, he became aware of the rest of his body.

First he began to notice a tight feeling that began building in his chest uncomfortably. He was suddenly all too aware of the stretching burn of his muscles and the contortion of his limbs to fit in the small trunk. A deep, wet, cold, unlike that of the calming cool of his daydream, covered him, he was soaked to the bone. His soggy clothes weren't about to dry and were sticking uncomfortably to his skin. His eyes were open, but almost no light from the full moon made it through the cracks of his prison. He tried to keep his attention away from the growing pain in his body and instead focused on the facts.

He knew he was in a trunk of a small car, the rumble of the engine and the patter of rain was white noise, incessantly buzzing, and it wasn't helping to further focus his attention, in fact it was making him rather drowsy. Being kidnapped really took it out of a guy.

The car suddenly made a sharp turn, slamming Will's prone form against the hard wall, his headache impossibly grew, along with all the other pains he was still trying to ignore. Instead he honed his attention to the surrounding area of his current cage. He flailed his arms as much as he could and wiggled his entire body, being careful to not alert his captor of his consciousness by banging against the sides. He probably would have looked hilarious in any other circumstance, but despite his trying not to think too hard, Will knew his dire circumstance.

Besides himself, the trunk was empty, save the extra rope that wasn't used to tie his limbs. Suddenly, he thought of his dogs. The poor animals were trapped in his house. He hoped someone would realize his absence soon, if not to find him, then to at least save his dogs from starving, his body started trembling against his will, heart rate speeding, shudders running through his horizontal figure.

His vision blurred, and his breath came in short fast bursts. He tried to grab his face, to cover his eyes, his mouth, to shield him from his reality. But his arms wouldn't move, they were tied behind him. His biceps flamed as he struggled the restraints without thought. The rope around his wrists broke the thin soft skin, but he payed no mind, still struggling against the pain.

His bare feet scrambled for purchase, and in his tight balled form his knees simultaneously knocked against his chin making him bite his tongue.

His mouth filled with warm sticky blood that drizzled through his lips and onto his cheeks. He coughed it out and splatters of red covered the inside lid of the trunk. The smell of copper invaded his senses and a rumbling discomfort invaded his stomach. He groaned loudly and twisted uncomfortably.

He was starting to panic for the first time since his capture. The eerie calm of before finally faded away, leaving Will with a sudden sense of crazed instinct to get away, anywhere but here.

Will knew though, that in his current state, that would be impossible.

He didn't even have a lecture on Monday, classes had been canceled for the day, nobody would notice his absence till at least Tuesday. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to control his breathing, panicking was never a good thing in these types of situations, he had to keep his mind cleared.

To calm himself, Will tried to figure as much as he could about the man who took him. He wasn't in the best state of mind to do so, but Will was good at his job. He willed himself to gather information about his captor despite his growing panic.

The smell of sweat and chlorine permeated the carpeted floor of the trunk through the copper, it was a sharp musty scent, entirely unpleasant, and Will had his face rubbed up against it. He scrunched his nose.

_So this guy works out often, and swims, probably lives by a gym or sports club._

The image of an large run down building came to mind. Faded turquoise lettering on the front proudly announcing the private community of Hoover's 20 hour gym. Off to the side, on a crooked shredded banner were the barely recognizable words, "with newly added pool!"

Will was happy to have gathered at least that small bit of information, he hadn't been able get a look at the guy before he was knocked out. Will hadn't even known anyone else was in the area, it made him wonder how much he missed in everyday life.

...

The late autumn air breezed past his face, its fresh scent filled his lungs and mussed the hair peeking out the bottom of his hat. Will was bundled up for his small fishing trip. He didn't expect to stay out long, though sometimes he wished he could escape his normal life, if you could even call it a normal life, for this calm world forever. He sighed, watching the fog of his breath drift away, another part of himself, gone.

It was a Saturday, the first snow of the year lightly dusted town. Will was grateful for the calm of the day. But, something felt off. He glanced around the small shallow stream, ankle deep in water, tall thick boots and wool socks protecting his feet from the freezing temperatures.

The banks of the shore were unmarred aside from his own footprints, his gear and a cooler with two fish in it resting under one of the tall trees on his favorite rock. The slanting shadows of the approaching afternoon hid much of the dark forested shore.

He liked his little fishing hole. It was hidden and out of the way. The tall curving trees both shielded him from the outside world, yet also allowed it to feel open, unlike the cage of his house. The water was fast and never really got the chance to freeze over during the winter.

Best of all, there was a rock, or more accurately a boulder, just in the shade of trees perfect as a table for when he stays the whole day and needs a place to eat lunch. And when he doesn't eat lunch, he likes to just lay there and listen to the bubbling water. It really was quite a fantastic rock.

He looked toward his regular resting spot, his stuff was sitting on the boulder as he normally put his things there. But then he noticed something. Taking a few steps closer for a better few, Will saw that his bag, where he kept extra clothes in the off chance he slipped and got soaked, was open. He hadn't opened it. Or at least, he didn't think he did, nowadays he didn't particularly trust his mind though.

He turned away to reel in his line carefully. Hidden by the noise of the water, was the rustling of leaves and the soft mumblings of a young man, nervous yet excited.

With his line reeled and inspected for tangles, He turned back towards his stuff and was walking leisurely in a rare moment of peace.

This time he did hear. A splash of water, directly behind him. Spinning on his heel he clutched the hunting knife at his side, but it was too late. The offender had already knocked him to the river bed, his head cracked on the stony bottom.

A mouthful of fridge water slipped down his throat, and his eyes went dark, the last image was of the vague shape of a young man.

Underneath the rush of water, the sound of a deep voice mumbling apologies and asking for the forgiveness kept repeating.


End file.
